Obsession
by Dark Ash
Summary: (Hamlet-influenced, slash, M15) A chance meeting between two people can be destructive. Two men meet in an alley one night, and it becomes an obsession. How can the hurt get better? DARK


Obsession  
  
By Dark Ash  
  
Genre: Drama/Angst  
  
Rating: M15/PG-15.  
  
Other random info: There are EXTREMELY heavy Hamlet influences, so if you haven't read it... just read it, okay? It's a great play, Shakespeare's best. If you don't remember some of the minor-ish characters (like, for example, you only remember Claudius, Hamlet, Ophelia, and Polonius), re-read it, because, once again, this won't make very much sense. In reality, though, this is more like "Lion King characters get turned into humans in the 20-21- ish century in an unknown city and are faced with some of the thematic elements closer to Hamlet, and character flaws are revealed". It involves a sadist/masochist pairing and implied non-con, and some of the elements in this story are a bit odd and possibly even disturbing, and there is an *extremely* alternate pairing, as well as a somewhat-normal pairing too. Won't tell you yet, but it is *REALLY* different. Oh yeah, it's slash too. Fun, nee?  
  
Now, without further ado, I present to you the story. Ja, minna.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The slim man looked around nervously. He hated to admit it, but he hated it when he knew that somebody was there but couldn't quite see him. Slowly, he felt a warm hand slide up his shirt and pull him back into the alley. The other hand kept his mouth shut...  
  
Sarcastically, the man wondered why He thought he would scream anyway.  
  
It was always this way.  
  
Well, maybe not always, he reconsidered. No, not always. Not the first time. The first time he did scream, the first time he did struggle and try to pull away. The first time he was still a mere child at heart. The first time he *cried*, oh yes. He fucking *cried*. Even before he was thrown onto the bed, he wept tears that he didn't even know existed. He remembered the smile, the one that used to give him nightmares...  
  
Not anymore.  
  
He wondered if he really weakened or if he had strengthened from that night to this. He wasn't sure anymore. He didn't know *anything*. *He* told him that often, and he was starting to believe it.  
  
The kid...  
  
He couldn't believe he was doing this to the kid. For chrissakes, he was his friend! Or... he hoped he was his friend. He had only one other friend than that, once supposed boyfriend, but they broke up after all of this started. He didn't know, thank whoever might or might not be up there, but he had an idea. The man pondered slightly, and thought that he might still love him and be able to go back if he wanted to...  
  
But you don't know anything, you little shit, the voice in his head said back to him. He doesn't love you. You amount to nothing. You even traded in Simba for a few laughs, to monitor his sanity. Isn't that wonderful? Aren't you such a good friend?  
  
He closed his eyes and sighed into His hand. The other man hissed. By now, he knew that meant that he shouldn't make a sound or move, or it would be worse. He, the one who had taken him, struggled with the door and was finally able to open it. Quickly, He closed the door and locked it. That done, he turned and faced his captor.  
  
"What is the news with Simba?" He asked calmly, as if this were every-day conversation. The man inwardly flinched. He hated doing this, but he had to. It was an obsession, he supposed. Once he started doing something, it became part of his schedule. He could wake up at one in the afternoon one day, and then he'd keep on doing that for a long time until he was forced to wake up earlier. If he had some meat for dinner that night, he would have to eat meat at least once a day for a while. Ever since He had gone and taken him away, he stayed in the lot until He came every Friday night. Now that he had all of this luxury that He gave him, he couldn't have it taken away from him.  
  
However, he tried to keep his stance as prose as possible. "He's doing okay," he muttered.  
  
He looked in closer to him. "Really?" The light seemed to be absorbed in His dark green eyes, and not ever coming back out. "Something tells me otherwise. What really happened?"  
  
The man looked away, towards the wall. "He had a nightma--"  
  
He was cut off by His hand. It brusquely interrupted the word and made a nice clean sound, one similar to that of a ball hitting a bat. He snarled. "Don't tell me. You said he was okay, and you lied." He clutched his shoulders and shook him back and forth. "You idiot! You know better than that! Do you understand me?"  
  
The man didn't reply.  
  
"Well?" He growled.  
  
No response. The man just stood there, the blood already rushing back to his cheek. He slowly turned and stared at Him through half-lidded eyes. "Why are you doing this?"  
  
He stared blankly at him for a moment. "Why do you think?"  
  
"I..." he thought for a moment. "I'm no different than any of your fucking whores. I'm no different than any of the ladies in your gang, or even your wife. You know that, and I know that. So... why are you doing this?"  
  
A light smile greeted His face. "Oh, and is that any way to treat your elders?"  
  
"You look creepy when you smile," he said darkly.  
  
A silence was born between them. Slowly, He leaned over and kissed the man... if you could call it a kiss. It was painful, stressful, and the type that would have made the man squirm under regular circumstances. The first time, the man remembered, he tried struggling against it. Now, he had neither the will nor the energy to do so. He just leaned back against the wall, not kissing back and not really caring. It was part of his schedule, his obsession, which he just needed to get over and done with.  
  
Other things, too. After he was shoved down onto the bed, his mind shut off completely. He had learned, after weeks upon months of doing this, that it was easier to just lose it all than linger on this.  
  
He remembered that the scar used to scare him. It was a silly phobia. It was even a normal-looking scar. Then he shook his head. He had *originally* thought it was the scar that he was afraid of, but it was the smile. The smile is what he feared. But, in the end, it was not the smile he feared... and he knew it.  
  
He was a bastard. The man just lay there, his eyes glazed over, and didn't make a sound or move as he thought about this. It was part of his obsession, the thing that *controlled* him, was that bastard that was rocking him against the bed right now. Why was he letting him do this? Why was he letting this inhumane person kill Simba slowly with mind wars? He didn't know all the details, but he could tell that He was a killer. He had killed somebody before. Why was he letting this man do this? It might just kill him.  
  
It was starting to get dark out. He couldn't see anything at this point but the low, dim glow of the sun that had already sunk below the horizon.  
  
"Go," He said firmly. "Put on your clothes and go."  
  
The man looked at him, and did so.  
  
"And tell me the truth next time. It's better to tell the truth you know."  
  
"Like you do?" he said sarcastically.  
  
"Exactly. You've learned your lesson well. Now, what are you going to do?"  
  
He sighed. "Go watch Simba and report to you if anything goes wrong, Scar."  
  
A smile touched the corners of Scar's face. "Now, there's a good lad. Go off and have fun. They're probably waiting for you at home now."  
  
He left the room and shut the door.  
  
Timon sighed again, cursed Scar briefly, and knew what scared him the most. It was his obsession. He couldn't get rid of it no matter how hard he tried.  
  
Some life, he thought. Hakuna Matata... it's a nice thought, but will it ever come true?  
  
*~*  
  
"Timon?" Dark, wide eyes stared into chocolate ones. "You've been acting strange recently."  
  
He looked sideways at his once-boyfriend. "Yeah? What's it to you? You're the one that broke up with me."  
  
His friend's eyes widened. "Is that why you're so remote? That's no reason to forget about your friends."  
  
Timon fell down onto his bed and sighed. "No. It's not *just* that. I..." He looked up, and saw Pumbaa on the verge of tears. "What?"  
  
"We had it, you know," Pumbaa said. "You know we had it. We had Hakuna Matata. But, ever since we broke up... you've been acting creepy."  
  
Timon shook his head. "The mook must be rubbing off on me," he muttered to himself. He gave his pal a sideways glance. "You know it would have never worked out. You know, Matthew Shepard and all that jazz. 'God hates fags where we come from'*, right?"  
  
Pumbaa sat down on the bed and questioningly started stroking Timon's hair. "Nobody would have to know, Timon. Nobody did before..."  
  
Slowly, he turned his head to look at his friend, once-lover. "It's over, buddy," he whispered. "It's over, and you know it."  
  
Unknown to Pumbaa, Timon was talking to himself. He darker man blinked, and Timon hugged him slowly. He buried his face in Pumbaa's shirt and sighed. After the initial moment of shock, he hugged back, and they just stayed like that for a while.  
  
*~*  
  
It wouldn't last.  
  
Scar never got word of it. Timon and Pumbaa just left.  
  
After the fight, she came in. Only one man, trembling, was standing. Clean blood tainted by lead bullets was spilled carelessly all over the once- clean alley. "What happened?" she asked calmly. She had seen this many times before.  
  
The man slowly told the tale. "This man here killed this man here for killing his father and marrying his mother. The cup that this man was supposed to drink from poisoned this woman. Nala and Rafiki have been dead for a few months. I just got word today... Timon and Pumbaa are dead."  
  
Zira nodded. "Very well, then."  
  
"Simba said that you should be the next..." the man said, but then was cut off by Zira.  
  
"I know. Don't worry about it," she said softly. The guards took him away, and he looked around fretfully. "Go bid the soldiers shoot," she said.  
  
A bang was heard in the background.  
  
Nothing lasts.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
*I'm referring to "American Triangle" here, which is, oddly enough, a song by Elton John. It's about the murder of Matthew Shepard.  
  
A/N: (maniacal laughter) I'm evil, aren't I?  
  
But, seriously now, hasn't *anybody* thought that either Claudius/Rosencrantz or Scar/Timon would be interesting? I think it's plausible, but more so in the Hamlet version. I personally think that Pumbaa and Timon are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, as opposed to the hyenas, which is the other common theory, but that could be me. Besides, I really think that it would be more interesting and unusual to do a Scar/Timon because of the conflicting personalities than, say, a Scar/Banzai. I dunno, it's probably me...  
  
Anyway, this was interesting to write. Oddly enough, the idea came to me in gym. That's when my brain shuts off and I stop caring about school, usually. ^_^  
  
For some reason, I'm surprised that there aren't very many TLK slash/femslash fics. That will change with my coming into this section, however. ^_~ I have a plot bunny for a femslash/shoujo ai fic, and am in the process of writing a slash/soft yaoi fic. The latter will be long and tedious, while the first will be a one-shot. Lord knows if that is all I'm going to write (or if I'm either going to finish either of them), but for some reason I doubt it. Hopefully I get more than that done. Only time and schoolwork will tell.  
  
Ja, minna-sama. 


End file.
